


Lady of Spain, or How Wilson Found His Organ

by srsly_yes



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srsly_yes/pseuds/srsly_yes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buying furniture for the loft was an ordeal for Wilson, even with an interior designer's help. Two missing scenes from 6x16, Black Hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady of Spain, or How Wilson Found His Organ

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** [H]ouse is not mine and never will be.  
>  **A/N:** For [](http://barefootpuddles.livejournal.com/profile)[**barefootpuddles**](http://barefootpuddles.livejournal.com/) ', [The Literary Drabble Challenge](http://sick-wilson.livejournal.com/493995.html). The prompt, _"I am very sorry about this, but in all the circumstances there is no choice."_ (Taken from _Hinge of Fate_ by Winston Churchill.)
> 
> This is a very diluted interpretation of the theme, "Choice." It's similar in the same way diluted liquid soap resembles a cleaning product.  
> 

“Dahling, call me Liz,” she drawled, sweeping past him as he opened the door. “Gorgeous space, Dahling. I know people who would kill for this space, Dahling.”

“Really?” He said, coolly, recalling how he scooped Cuddy, and the pranks that followed.

His jaw clenched as she fired off Dahlings with the speed of a journeyman carpenter shooting a nail gun, pinning each wall, window, and surface with a “Simply gorgeous, Dahling” or “Absolutely dreadful, Dalhing.”

A dull pain sprouted behind his eyes.

When she spied the poster buried behind House’s clothes, she said “For shame, Dahling. Do come out of the closet.”

His headache escalated to nuclear proportions.

***

He managed to escape to the coffee shop around the corner by signing a contract. The fine print swam before his eyes. He might have made her executrix of his will or promised his body to science. He didn’t care. One more Dahling, and blood would leak from his ears.

Unwinding under the influence of a cappuccino he regretted his decision to hire a decorator. Abdicating his right to choose was no more than a shortcut dressed in sheep’s clothing.

In response to his epiphany, the air boomed with a vigorous melody, “Lady of Spain.”

He massaged the tightening muscles in the back of his neck. He had forgotten the organ store was located next door.


End file.
